A Cursed Line
by rogue empress
Summary: Sydney is tasked to rescue a girl from a terrorist group in Portugal. The CIA knows almost nothing about her, except that these terrorists want her to make some sort of biochemical weapon of mass destruction.
1. The Girl

Note: Alias and its characters belong to J.J.Abrams. However, the teenage portuguesa and the terrorist group known as Incant are my offspring. This is my first fic, so any feedback you can give me would be oh so lovely.

Dixon stood up. "We have gotten intel that a terrorist group known as Incant is looking for this girl." The screen showed the face of a high school student. She had straight dark hair, and impossibly dark eyes.

"She can't be more than sixteen." Sydney said. "why would a terrorist group be after her?"

"We don't know. All we know is that for some reason, they want her blood to make some kind of weapon of mass destruction. Incant has her under such extreme surveillance, they literally know her every move. Sydney, I'm sending you to Oporto to retrieve her."

Marshall raised his hand nervously. "Uh, sorry - but, do we know what kind of surveillance techniques they're using?"

"Yes. It seems they are using all of them."

"All of them - what - you mean like every possible technique known to man?"

"That's right."

"Wow, these people must really have no lives."

"Most of what they use is human observation. But they do have over a hundred hidden cameras per room in her house, along with over one million heat, weight, and fingerprint sensitive devices. They literally record her every move. Even if Marshall successfully downs the countless surveillance objects in and around this girl's house, there are people constantly watching her from up to 5 miles away, as well as people patrolling the streets near her house."

"How many people are we talking about?" Weiss asked.

"There are estimated to be between 500 and 2,000 on site at any given second, and they are on a rotation that takes place every 3 and a half minutes."

"So how do you propose we get her out?" Sydney asked, a little disconcerted.

"We have alerted the local authorities in Oporto about our plan. We have compiled about 8 million agents and allies in Portugal and staged a big explosion to go off in an apartment building a few blocks from her home. The blast should disturb the surveyors for at least 20 seconds. Sydney, you will have that time to get in and out with the girl."

"20 seconds?"

"20 seconds." Dixon answered. "Go over Op Tech with Marshall. You leave in 3 days."

"Does she have any idea we're coming to get her?" Sydney asked as Dixon was leaving.

"No. We can't contact her in any way without Incant knowing."

"So I have twenty seconds to break into this girl's house and abduct her."

"That's all we can do right now."


	2. The Extraction

_Oporto_

Sydney and Weiss sat in the van, checking connectivity with HQ and doing final tests on the equipment. Sydney readied herself by the door of the van, as Weiss spoke into his microphone. "Marshall, ready?"

Marshall responded, "Ready in three, two, one. Go!" He hit a trigger on his desk and a big explosion rattled the van.

Sydney bolted through the van and to the window of the small house across the street. She did a flying side kick through the glass and landed on the carpet of the living room. Guards were on the scene immediately. Sydney downed two of them who were foolishly standing next to each other with one jump back spin kick. A girl came out of one of the rooms and started fighting with her.

"Quem são você!" She shouted. _Who are you?_

"Eu estou aqui ajudar-lhe." Sydney replied, _I'm here to help_, throwing one of the guards over her knee and onto the floor.

"Ten seconds, Syd." Weiss warned her, "Hurry."

Then the girl looked at her, and suddenly spoke to her in Dutch, "U bent Amerikaans!" _You're American!_

Sydney was confused, "Ja," she replied, wanting to ask her why she was speaking Dutch, but Weiss's voice came into her ear. "Syd, they've _all_ become aware of your position. Get out now."

Sydney grabbed the girl's arm. "Volg me," she said,_Follow me,_leading her to the front door and throwing it open. The two bolted down the street, the girl, to Sydney's slight surprise, ran about three steps ahead of her. The van screeched to a halt in their path. "Krijg in de bestelwagen!" _Get in the van! _she yelled to the girl ahead of her. They both dove into the van as it pulled away, the force of the air sliding the door shut.

Once inside, Weiss began instructing the girl in his spotless Portuguese.

"Ponha isto sobre," He said, handing her a wad of clothing and pointing to the section of the van that had a small door separating it from the rest.

Sydney explained to him, "She speaks Dutch," as the girl was simultaneously saying, "I speak English."

Sydney and Weiss looked at one another and the girl, very confused. "But your Portuguese is very good." She said, taking the clothes from him and slipping through the tiny door and shutting it behind her. She sounded like she was from Chicago.

"Hurry, our drop is coming up." Syd said to the wall.

"Out in two," the girl replied. The sound of a zipper played like the punctuation to her statement, and she slid back through the door wearing a black wind-resistant suit. Sydney instructed her on the drop. "We're going to run off that cliff and parachute into a helicopter. Run in front of me like you did before. When you get to the edge, brace yourself. I'm going to hook the back of your suit to mine and throw us off the edge. How much do you weigh?"

"Around 120," The girl answered, frowning. Weiss fished around behind something and handed Sydney a bigger parachute pack. "Is that a good idea? To jump _onto_ a helicopter?" She continued, "Because the spinning blades of death are kinda putting up red flags here."

Sydney smiled. "We're going to jump and the helicopter will come up beside us and kind of slide us into the cabin."

"Ok. That I can handle."

Weiss flung the door open.

The girl was out of the van and across the rocky terrain like a bullet. She slid to a stop at the very edge of the cliff, her toes over the edge, and braced herself, just as she had been instructed. But then she heard Sydney yell, "Back up!" and she took a step back. Sydney practically slammed into her, and then, they were off the edge. The girl hadn't even noticed when Sydney had hooked their suits together, but she was safely suspended from her American rescuer as they plummeted towards the water.

Suddenly, they were wrenched to a stop as the chute opened. The girl tried to look up over Sydney's shoulder, but it was an awkward movement. From what she could see of the chute, it was much smaller than she had expected. She heard a helicopter coming around the side of the plateau. Before she knew it, the helicopter wasalmost directly above them. It hooked theirparachute, causing it to deflate, and thenSydney and the girl were reeled into the cabin, parachute and all. Sydney could not wait until they were separated so she could ask the girl who she was. Once unhooked, the girl sat Indian-style on the floor, ran her fingers through her hair to get it out of her face, and offered her hand to Sydney.

"I am Mirari Vasconcellos-da Gama. Mira, because my full name sounds horrid in an American accent." She gave a little half-smile.

Sydney shook her hand. "Sydney Bristow." Slightly disappointed her introduction didn't have very much flair.

"You're hurt," Mira suddenly said, not letting go of Sydney's hand. "Your wrist."

"My wrist is fine," Sydney responded, confused, and taking her hand back. She was a little wierded out.

"No, your other wrist." Mira said, holding out her hand for it. "Let me see."

Now Sydney was definitely weirded out. She had made no indication that her wrist hurt at all. As her curiosity grew, she held her hand out to Mira, who went to it slowly and grabbed it. She had barely made contact with Sydney when she hissed and flinched in pain. "You've broken a piece off one of your metacarpals. Probably did it punching someone or getting out of a joint lock."

Sydney just looked at her, acting as though there was nothing wrong with her wrist. Breaking a piece off a metacarpal didn't seem that serious. She could still move everything on her hand. But she was watching the girl to see what she would do next.

"Agent Bristow," Mira said, "It's not going to do you or the CIA any good to keep your injuries secret from them. Just because you have a high tolerance for pain doesn't mean these inflictions aren't serious. If this wrist doesn't heal correctly, it won't take much to break it in the future."

Agent Bristow stared, wide-edyed. "How did you know I was an agent?"

Mira let go of Sydney's hand and went back to sitting against the wall.

"How did you know I worked for the CIA?"


	3. The Safe House

Thanks to katie, S.Nicolai, and Agent Phoenix for the encouragement. it was oh so lovely. :) and now as you've requested, the story continues.

* * *

Mira did not reply. Instead, she pretended she hadn't heard her and looked out at the stars and the water. 

"Who are you working for?" Sydney asked, very aggressively.

"Working for?" The girl was surprised. "Nobody!"

"How did you know I was CIA?" By this time Sydney was very close to her, a switchblade in her fist with the blade still retracted.

Mira scooted backwards, plastering herself against the wall.

Sydney flicked out the blade and moved even closer to her. "Answer me!"

Mira's hands flew up and she plastered herself even more against the wall. "Whoa whoa, listen. I'm not working for anybody. I swear. I will tell you everything you need to know once we land and we're safe."

"You're lying."

"Look around you, Agent Bristow, where am I going to go? I am not a threat. I'm in my pajamas. This cabin is bare. The only thing in this place I could possibly use for a weapon is the knife you're holding, and no way would I be stupid enough to think I could overpower you in a struggle."

Sydney realized she was right, but she still didn't trust her, and held her position.

"Please put the knife down," the girl begged, "I swear to you I'll tell you everything once we land. Please." She was shaking, "Please don't cut me."

When Sydney saw that the girl was at the brink of tears, she put the knife down, feeling a little guilty for upsetting her, but still extremely suspicious. She kept watching her. Mira seemed to become very grave, and worried. She gave up her talkativeness and even her manners and did not speak to Sydney at all after that. At one point she curled up and put her jumpsuit under her head and went to sleep.

* * *

Mira woke with a start when Sydney called her name. She sat up and looked around, disorientated, then she seemed to remember where she was and again became very solemn, and did not speak. 

"We're in L.A." Sydney said.

Mira simply nodded, and let Sydney take her by the arm and lead her out. She wasn't sure if it was a protective or a distrusting gesture. Neither did Sydney.

Sydney walked her into the safe house and began going through the routine explanation of just how safe she was here and that there were people two steps away if anything happened. Mira still did not make much eye contact, and still was very quiet. She looked around and asked, "is there food?"

"Yeah, there should be some things in the fridge," Sydney said, going into the kitchen. "If not, someone will bring you something." She opened the fridge. "You're pretty stocked up, it seems."

Mira did not reply. Instead, she sat down at the table with a sigh and put the top of her head into her hand. Sydney sat down accross from her, a little concerned. Mira put her hand down, but stared at the table. "My little sister will be waking up for school soon." She said. "And when she asks my mother where I am..." she trailed off, then swallowed and said, "the whole village is probably looking for me."

"Once we dismantle Incant, you can contact them and let them know you're safe."

Mira nodded, trying to reassure herself. Then she wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, shoving all thoughts of her family into the back of her mind and bringing forth the collected and co-operative attitude she'd had when Sydney had first spoken to her. "Would you like me to answer your questions now or are you too busy?"

"I'm not too busy," Sydney said, "but we don't have to do this right now, if"

"I always keep my promises." Mira said matter-of-fact, "Go ahead."

"No, really, you should rest." Sydney felt bad for the kid. She'd been through a lot last night.

"I'm not tired." She said, then saw Sydney's look of concern. "Please, I need something to keep my mind off my family right now."

"Ok," Sydney said, then asked her how she knew she was CIA.

"I'm going to be very honest with you, even though I doubt you'll believe anything I tell you." She thought for a moment what was the best way to word it, and decided the shorter the better. "I guess you could say I'm psychic."

Sydney couldn't help but smile. That was one ridiculous answer she had not considered. What was this, a joke?

"No, it's not a joke. I knew your wrist was hurt because mine hurt. I knew what was broken because I felt it break in my wrist."

Sydney was surprised, but still skeptical.

"You can test me if you like." Mira offered calmly.

"I don't think so," Sydney said, still slightly amused by the situation, and started to get up to leave.

"Wait." Mira stopped her. "You have more questions."

"No, I-"

"You want to know why I started helping you fight before I knew who you were." Mira interrupted. "And why I was so panicked when you pulled the knife, and why I was speaking Dutch, and what the big deal is about me, and - "

"Wait," Sydney said. Mira had a panicked look on her face. "Slow down"

Mira let out a shuddering breath and ran her fingers through her hair. "I just don't want to be alone. Please," she fought back tears. "Don't leave."

Sydney could see that she was about to cry, and went over to her and rubbed her back. Mira swallowed and seemed to chastise herself, looking down at the table. "I mean, if you have to go, don't worry about it, I'll be ok." She looked back up at Sydney, "But if you can stay, would you?"

Sydney knelt down next to Mira's chair, still gently rubbing her back.

"Please? At - at least until I'm asleep?"

"Sure," Sydney nodded.

Mira was not able to keep herself from crying any more. She managed to whisper out a thank you, and excused herself to the bathroom.

* * *

She emerged from the bathroom an eternity later, and crawled straight into the bed. Sydney had dosed off for a minute, and the sound of the bathroom door opening gave her a little start. She looked at her watch. It was stupid for her to go home now, she had to be back here in 4 hours to pick the girl up and take her in to HQ to be examined. So Sydney decided to sleep on the couch. She waited until she saw the bedroom light go out, then laid down on the couch and covered herself up with the heavy knit blanket that was draped across the back. 

Mira slipped into the living room noiselessly just as the sky was changing into a deep luminous blue, and the birds were beginning to make noises outside. She found Sydney on the couch with the blanket almost completely thrown off. Sydney must have gotten too hot, as it now draped only over her legs and feet. Her shirt had begun to rise up, exposing the big pink puffy scar on her side. Mira went over to the couch, leaned over and reached out and cupped her hand over Sydney's side.

Sydney woke with a gasp and grabbed Mira's arm. The girl jumped,retracted her arm and stepped back. "I'm sorry," she said, hanging her head, embarrassed.

"What were you doing?" Sydney demanded, a little out of breath.

If there had been more light in the room, she would have seen Mira go scarlet.

"I'm sorry. I'll go back to bed." Mira glided swiftly out of the room and went back into the bedroom and shut the door.

Sydney took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. What the hell had just happened? She looked down at her side and her breath caught in her lungs.

The scar was gone.


	4. An Early Morning Drive

Sydney sat at the table, anxious, watching the sun go up. She had made coffee, and was currently strumming her fingers on her mug. The door to the bedroom opened, and Mira emerged, half awake.

"Good, you're up." Sydney said, standing. "Get your coat."

"I don't have one." Mira frowned. "Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you in to be examined."

"Now?" She rubbed her neck. "Can I eat first?"

"You can eat on the way."

"Ok," Mira said, "lemme go pee first."

Sydney waited for her to return. When she did, Sydney was standing by the door. "Come on," she said, opening it.

Mira stopped at the threshold. "I don't have any shoes," she said, looking down.

"I'll buy you some on the way."

"Alright..." Mira was suspicious, but she went along with what Sydney was telling her.

In the car, Sydney drove without saying anything, as though she were completely intent on watching the road. Mira could tell she was avoiding her.

"Look," Mira said, "I know nothing is open. It's only 5am. I also know you want to be away from me right now, but you can't because I'm your assignment. Why don't you just ask me or say to me whatever it is that's bothering you?"

Sydney looked at her, then pulled into a playground parking lot and turned the car off. She turned to the girl. "What the hell did you do to me last night?"

Mira hesitated. How was she supposed to explain this? "I...healed you." She said, then waited for Sydney's reaction.

Sydney just stared at her.

"I felt it all day. The physical pain and the emotional anguish that was tied to it. You were unbalanced, half empty. And the nightmares..." She shook her head. "I couldn't bear it. So I healed you."

"What do you mean you healed me?"

"I made it as if it had never happened," Mira said, looking straight into Sydney's eyes, "as far as your body is concerned, that is."

Mira saw Sydney's expression change as it clicked with her what she was being told. But she needed reassuring, and Mira sensed that too.

She paused and watched Sydney for a moment. "I understand you'll probably need medical proof. And that's ok. It doesn't offend me. But I'm telling you, they're all there."

Sydney didn't know how to react to this, or whether she believed it or not.

"It was Rambaldi, wasn't it?" Mira asked solemnly.

"How did you know?" Sydney asked, reluctantly showing she at least somewhat believed her claim of being psychic.

"I can recognize that lunatic's work anywhere. The emotions are always the same...the nightmares..." She trailed off, looking around her suddenly. "Can we go back to the safe house and talk?"

Sydney frowned. "Yeah, sure." She started up the car and pulled away. A couple of blocks down the street, Mira suddenly pointed out the window.

"Ooh, look." She said, pointing at a bagel shop. "It's open, and it has a drive- thru." Mira looked at Sydney. "Do you mind? I'll pay you back when my account gets transferred over here."

"Uh, no, it's fine." Sydney said, pulling into the drive-through. They ordered, and Sydney paid. As she pulled away from the window, she looked over at Mira, who was watching the rear-view mirror and the road.

"Someone's following us, aren't they?" She said.

Mira's eyes shot up to her. She didn't say anything, but there was no mistaking her expression.

Sydney turned her eyes back on the road ahead and turned the wrong way out of the parking lot.

As they were driving, Mira spoke to Sydney while seemingly putting cream cheese on her bagel. "Listen, they have a gun. If I tell you to get down, don't hesitate. Pretend you're trying to beat the fastest reaction time record, ok?"

"I get it."

"Do you have a gun?"

"Yeah." Sydney slipped a gun to Mira. "Do you know how to use it?"

Mira shot her a quick look. "There are a lot of things about me that are going to surprise you." She looked in the rear-view mirror. "Fuck. Get down!" She yelled.

Sydney immediately slumped down into the seat, her head hitting the horn as a bullet came through the back of her headrest and into the windshield.

"Ok," Mira said, and Sydney picked her head back up. "Oh and look, we didn't even run into oncoming traffic." She looked at the back window. "Perfect," She said, snapping the clip into place. "Lean forward, would you?"

Sydney leaned forward and Mira draped herself across the back of Sydney's seat, hanging on to the holy headrest with one hand, and aiming the gun with the other. She fired one shot, that went straight through the hole the previous bullet had made and into the head of the perpetrator. Then she swung back into her seat and put her seatbelt back on. "Thanks," she said, giving Sydney her gun back.

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

Mira shrugged. "Here and there."

Sydney shot her a look.

"What?"

"Nothing. I think we're ok now."

"You're ok, yeah."

Sydney looked at her. "What about you?"

She shook her head. "Keep driving. And whatever you do, don't turn." She swallowed hard. "Once I'm out, do _not_ take me to HQ, or the CIA hospital, or any place we will ever return to. Drive for at least three miles before you turn into anyplace. And whatever you do, make no contact with my blood. Do you understand? Oh, and once I'm out, _do not_ call for backup. Just wait."

"What do you mean 'once you're out?'"

"Trust me," she said with such conviction Sydney was taken aback. "_Wait_."

"Mira-"

At that instant something shattered the passenger window, and Mira fell forward in her seat, unconscious.


	5. A Cut and a Hangover

"Jesus." Sydney whispered, and reached over and felt for Mira's pulse. It was faint and slow, but it was there.

She did as Mira had instructed, not wanting to know what would happen if she didn't. Three and a half miles down the road, Sydney spotted a small church, and pulled into its empty parking lot. She got out of the car, grabbing a sweatshirt out of the back seat, and went around to the passenger side. As she opened the door slowly, she saw Mira was bleeding from the back of her neck. Sydney remembered the girl's avid conviction about not touching her blood, and put the sweatshirt to the wound, unbuckled her, and lifted her out of the car. The pastor came running out.

"What happened?" He exclaimed, opening the door for Sydney and motioning for her to bring the girl inside.

"I think she was shot," Sydney said as she walked past him into the church. Her arm under the sweatshirt was starting to feel hot. She laid Mira down on the floor in the aisle and rolled her onto her side to inspect her wound. As she pulled the sweatshirt away, she saw there was a giant hole burned into it. The pastor knelt beside Sydney, and instinctively reached for Mira's wound. Sydney caught his bony hand. "Don't touch her." Carefully, she took the sleeve of the sweatshirt and dabbed at the blood on Mira's neck. The pastor and Sydney watched as the blood spot started to smoke and then burned through the sleeve.

"My God," The pastor said under his breath. Then to Sydney, he asked, "Is she alive?"

"Yeah. I think it was a tranquilizer. Do you mind if I wait here with her until she wakes up?"

"No, no! Of course not! Should I call a doctor?"

Sydney shook her head, gesturing towards the sweatshirt. "No," she said, "I don't want the media in on this. She's in witness protection." It was the truth, somewhat. Her eyes shot up to him with intense concern. "You won't say anything about this to anyone, will you?"

The pastor looked her straight in the eye. "With God as my witness, I would never do anything that might put any of His innocent children in danger."

Sydney smiled her thanks to him and rolled Mira onto her back and leaned up against a pew, waiting. The pastor left the room and returned swiftly with a blanket. "Tranquilizers slow blood flow," he explained, covering Mira up with it. "She's going to get pretty cold."

Sydney looked at him. He was tall, in his twenties, and had the comfortable gentle pride about him of a new husband and father. She felt at ease in his unassuming demeanor. Her subconscious told her he was the kind of rare person that would not judge you no matter who you were or what you did. If you came to him hungry, he would bring you into his home and feed you his wife's best entre even if you were the offspring of the devil himself. And, even more admirably, despite his frail movement and thin, bony figure and subsequent inability to properly defend himself from an attacker, he would not fear you for an instant.

"I've been in surgery a couple times," he replied to her suspicious glance and study of him.

Sydney smiled. "Thank you."

He nodded, then excused himself to his study, coughing.

Sydney noticed something itching her arm, and looked down as she scratched it. She took her hand away immediately, seeing it was a long bleeding cut. It must have been from when the window shattered, Sydney thought, dabbing up the blood with an unburnt part of her sweatshirt and making a mental note to get a band-aid when she got to HQ.

* * *

About an hour later, Mira began to stir. She opened her eyes and they fluttered around her in a panic, desperately trying to recognize where she was. Sydney reached for her arm to try and calm her. The pastor had returned, unable to bear his curiosity, and was sitting in one of the pews. It was as though Mira suddenly remembered all that had happened, as she sat up with a gasp and grabbed Sydney's arm for support. Sydney briefly felt this warm light go through her, before Mira released her arm. The pastor let out a loud sigh when Mira sat up. As the girl gathered her composure, Sydney looked down at her arm. The cut was gone. Ok, so that was twice. Maybe she was credible, after all.

Mira looked at Sydney, pale and still shaking from cold. "Take me back to the house." She asked weakly, struggling to stand up.

Sydney got up quickly and helped Mira stand.

When Mira's eyes found the pastor, she froze for an instant, as did he. Then she reached out and took his hand in hers, shaking it gently. "Thank you," she said, and the pastor let out a shocked sigh, his eyes showing both amazement and relief. He smiled, his face beginning to glow faintly.

"Praise God," he breathed, releasing her hand. "Thank you."

As they left the church, Sydney looked down at Mira. "What was that about?"

"He had tumors." She replied, brushing the glass off the passenger seat and getting into it with Sydney's help.

Sydney shut her door and went around and got behind the wheel. Mira gestured towards Sydney's arm. "What was the cut from?"

Sydney stared at her for a moment. "The window, I guess," she said, finally giving in to the tickling of her imagination and childish beliefs in the supernatural.

"Do you have any others?"

Sydney shook her head.

"Good." She leaned back in the seat as though she were going to go to sleep.

"HQ wants me to bring you in for questioning, you know." Sydney put the car in gear and began to pull out of the parking lot. She looked for the pastor, but saw only a silhouette through the glass in the doors, kneeling in the aisle in front of the alter.

Mira groaned. "I've got a hangover from that dart. What do they want to know?"

"Everything."

Another groan. "Can I just tell you and then you can tell them?" She asked, closing her eyes. "And then I can go to bed?"

Sydney laughed a little. "I think we could arrange that."

Mira noticed the sweatshirt Sydney had disregarded on the armrest. She made a pitiful noise in her throat. "I'm sorry about your shirt." She said, looking at Sydney.

Sydney shrugged. "It could have been my arm."

Mira smiled half-heartedly. Sydney had no idea. _It wouldn't have been just your arm, _she thought painfully, the idea making her want to cry. She turned away from Sydney and looked out her broken window. This had been too close of a call. Incant was getting reckless in its fury to capture her. They could have hit her jugular and she would have bled to death right in Sydney's car. And that almost frightened her as much as the thought of what would happen if they actually did catch her. The cataclysmal outcomes were the same in both scenarios.

As they pulled into a parking spot outside the safe house, Mira turned to Sydney, paler than ever. "Do you mind if I take a quick nap before I answer your questions? No more than twenty minutes, I swear. I just can't seem to stop spinning."

"Of course, yeah," Sydney said. "I've got some paperwork to finish anyway."

"I'm not making you miss anything at work, am I?" Mira said as she laboriously raised herself from the car. Some of her extremities still had no feeling in them, and she felt as though she were on the deck of a boat in rough seas.

"No," Sydney said, "For once I don't have anywhere to be except with you. Apparently you are a major priority." She saw Mira turn away at her last comment. Curiosity welled up in her, but also concern not to complicate the day for Mira any more. Being shot in the neck by a sniper had to raise some complicated emotions. Sydney gave a pleasant little half smile, and said, "It's going to be nice having a few days where I'm not jet-lagged."

This seemed to ease Mira's concerns, as she smiled with slight relief. But she still worried as they made their way into the front door. "You don't have to be with me all the time, you know. If you want to go, I won't be afraid. That was just a first night thing. I don't want you to feel like you have to watch over me like I'm some broken child. I can look out for myself."

Sydney couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I noticed that earlier."

Mira shot her a sparkling mischievous glance.

"Besides, I like your company." Sydney pushed.

"Ok, now you're lying." Mira said, falling onto the couch.

"No, really." Sydney insisted, sitting in the recliner adjacent to her. "I work with a bunch of old and middle-aged men. I haven't been able to have good girl-talk since -" She stopped, suddenly realizing what agonizing part of her past she was about to impart so casually to a practical stranger.

Mira reached over and squeezed Sydney's hand, letting her know without saying a word that she already knew about Francie and she hurt for Sydney's loss. Then she released her hand abruptly, knowing Sydney would not want to talk about Francie. "Just promise me you won't let me be a burden." She said.

With a relieved little smile, Sydney said, "I promise." Then something occurred to her. "Hey," she said, "why don't I go pick you up some clothes while you sleep?"

Mira gave a weak polite smile, but could not hide her girlish excitement in her voice. "You'd do that?" She asked.

"Yeah," Sydney said, smiling.

"I thought you said you had paperwork." Mira said, frowning at Sydney's attempt to coddle her.

"I do," Sydney admitted, "But I'd have to go all the way to my house and get my briefcase to do it." She was beginning to feel like a college student again as she said, "besides, it doesn't have to be in until the end of the week."

"Thank you so much." Mira said with as much enthusiasm as she could afford with her body feeling heavier and heavier by the moment. "I swear I'll pay you back as soon-"

"Don't worry about it," Sydney said, waving her hand. "The CIA gave me money to make sure you were comfortable." She was lying, but she knew the kid literally had nothing but the clothes on her back.

"Don't lie to a psychic." Mira said flatly. Sydney couldn't help but laugh a little. "I won't have you buying me gifts. Keep the receipt for me, and I'll pay you back. Just because I'm young doesn't mean I'm poor. I'm a hard worker and I have saved up quite a bit in my account in Oporto, and I'm not in the least bit incapable of refunding you for these things. There will just be a delay, for obvious reasons, before I will be able to access any of my money."

_Jesus. _Sydney thought. _What was she, fourty years old? This kid could make one hell of a lawyer if she wanted to._ "It's ok," She said, smiling, trying to lighten the situation and covering up Mira with the blanket as the girl's eyes closed without her consent. "What size are you?"

Mira's eyes remained closed as she answered. "Five or six, depending where you look. I also fit into pettites, if anything is over there on sale that doesn't belong on a fragile old grandmother," She said, sounding awake as ever even though her body dictated quite the opposite. Then she fought her eyes open and looked sternly at Sydney. "Swear to me you'll keep the receipts."

"How could I refuse after your little speech?" Sydney said jokingly. In all actuality it was true - what kind of intelligent bashing would she receive if she again turned her down?

Mira closed her eyes again and this time let herself fall asleep. "Yes, I know, I'm very persuasive," she said with mock conceit, her voice trailing off softly as she lost her fight with her body and began dreaming.


	6. The Explanation

I just wanted to extend my thanks for all of your encouragement. Also I changed a few details in the extraction concerning the helicopter, because as a friend of mine pointed out, that would never work. It may change again, I'm not sure. I'm always looking for pointers, so any suggestions are more than welcome. And if you hate something and want to be mean, be mean. I swear it won't hurt my feelings. : )

p.s. is it just me or do asterises not work on here for anybody?

Anyways, on with the show...

* * *

When Sydney returned, Mira was up sitting at the kitchen table sketching something.

"Hey," Sydney said as she closed the door behind her.

"Hey." Mira returned, smiling, "did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. Look." Sydney dropped her bag on the counter, and Mira rose and went over to her as she started pulling clothes out of the bag. "This one is for me," she said, showing Mira a dusty red top with a low neckline. Mira absent-mindedly felt the fabric as Sydney put it on the counter.

"Oh my God it's so soft!" She said.

"I know!" Sydney said, smiling. Then she reached back into the bag and pulled out a dark green long sleeved shirt and a pair of cargo khakis. "These are for you," she said, holding them out.

"Ooh!" Mira said quickly, snatching them from Sydney and practically running into the bathroom to change.

_Geez. Think she's excited? _Sydney thought to herself in amusement. Then her eyes wandered over to Mira's sketch. She was taken aback at what she saw. It was a portrait of Sydney, in such detail it looked like a black and white photograph. Mira had captured Sydney blushing - something she rarely did - a few tiny pieces of her hair falling across her cheeks.

The girl emerged from the bathroom, throwing her arms out. "Tada!"

Sydney laughed. "It fits!" She said, pleased with her choice.

"Like a dream," Mira said, walking up to her, smiling ear to ear. She bounced up onto her tip-toes and gave Sydney a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome."

Mira then held out her hand. It took Sydney a minute to realize what she was asking for. She reached into the bag and placed the receipt into Mira's open palm. "Thank you." She said righteously. Sydney only smiled at her.

"I called in HQ," Sydney said, changing the subject as she put her shirt back in the bag and put the bag by the door. "There's this guy who works with us - Marshall- he's a complete genius. He's in the middle of overriding the surveillance on your bank account. We should be able to get you some moneyin the next couple of days."

"Really?" Mira was excited. "You know, minus getting shot in the neck, I don't think this day could get any better."

Sydney smiled as Mira got into the cabinet and pulled out a package of cookies. She offered some to Sydney, stuffing one in her mouth. "Oh, definitely," Sydney said.

Mira sat at the table with the cookies, pushing her sketch and papers to the side. "Pop a squat," she said, her mouth half full. Sydney sat down across from her and grabbed a cookie out of the package. She took a bite, then gestured towards the sketch.

"What's that?" She asked.

Mira slid it to her, chewing on another cookie.

"This is me." Sydney said, sounding impressed.

"Oh, good, you can tell it's a person." Mira said.

"Are you kidding me? This is amazing."

"Meh. It's rubbish." She said, waving her hand and getting out another cookie.

"You know this is my face you're talking about." Sydney said.

Mira almost choked. "I'm sorry." She said, laughing.

Sydney smiled at her. "People pay big bucks to get their portraits done - you know you could -"

Mira cut her off with another wave of her hand. "It's just a hobby."

Sydney admired it for a while.

Mira watched her, chewing. "You want it?"

"Seriously?"

Mira nodded.

"Thank you."

"No problem." She got out another cookie, then looked at Sydney, who still had her first one half eaten in her hand. Sydney noticed her looking at her cookie and suppressed a smile. "Is that still your first cookie?" Mira asked, slightly amused.

"Yeah, I think so."

The girl pinched her lips shut as she smiled sheepishly, creating false dimples. "Yeah. This is my sixth." She said quietly, looking at the half of a cookie that sat in wait in her fingers. Then Mira decided to shrug off her shame. "Portuguese sweet tooth," she offered as an explanation, putting the other half of the cookie in her mouth. Sydney only smiled at her. "Ok." The girl said, closing the package and sliding the cookies away from her. "First we have to get me away from these. Then, let's get down to business." She brushed the crumbs off the table and onto the floor as she finished chewing, then looked up at Sydney. "Go ahead and ask me your questions."

"Ok." Sydney said. "Let's start with why you were speaking Dutch."

"Dutch is the only language Incant is not fluent in." Mira began,makingan instant switch in her attitude and getting right down to it. "They teach their agents how to carry on full conversations, devoid of any accent in every language except Dutch. For whatever reason, the only thing they know in Dutch is simple things like where is the bathroom, please, thank you, and how much does this cost. I spoke Dutch to get you to answer in Dutch, that way if you had something to tell me that they shouldn't know about, you would tell me in what you now think is my native language, and there would be no risk of them knowing where I was going." She shrugged. "Or, so I thought."

"Why would they choose not to cover Dutch?"

"Exactly. I don't know, probably because the operation is run by a bunch of lunatics."

"Lunatics?"

"Yeah. These people have got to be clinically insane. Almost like a big band of people suffering from Schizotypical personality disorder. They seem soo thorough, but then when you look at their inner-workings, there are these huge holes. It won't take much to dismantle them, and I'll help with that if you'll let me. What's going to be hard is finding all of them. The sheer number of people working for Incant is staggering. You know about the surveillance they had on me, right?" Sydney nodded, "And the rotation?" She nodded again. "Did you know that's all just lower-level agents? Flunkies they pay like four bucks an hour?"

Sydney tried not to show her surprise.

"Sometimes it seemed like half of Europe was working for these people."

"So what do they have to do with you?"

"Everything." She took a deep breath. "You guys don't know anything about me, do you?"

"All we know is you have something to do with a biochemical weapon."

"I don't just have something to do with it, I _am_ the biochemical weapon."

Sydney could not exactly wrap her brain around this concept. How could a _person_ be a biochemical weapon?

"I'll show you," Mira answered, "They can replace this table, right?"

"Yeah I guess," Sydney said, confused.

Mira picked a plastic fork up off the table, broke it, and used a sharp edge to prick her finger. She smeared the tiny droplet of blood onto the table. Immediately there appeared about twenty tiny little worms squirming in the line where her blood was. They went to work furiously, eating through the wood as fast as they possibly could. Mira prevented Sydney from bending over to examine them. "Don't touch them." Then she took her thumb and squashed them, at which point they turned into something acidic and fizzed and disappeared.

"What were they, termites?" Sydney asked.

"On the table they were termites, on the sweatshirt - what? fire?" She asked Sydney, who shrugged and nodded. "On your skin they might have been leprosy, or maggots, or acid."

"Wait, so-"

"I am a plague." She stated. "And yet, I can heal. I have what one nun referred to as 'Christ's touch.' Nobody really knows what to make of me, except these little Rambaldi freaks."

"Rambaldi?" Sydney was taken aback.

"Yeah. Twisted bastard, wasn't he?" She said. "You wouldn't have known I was tied to Rambaldi, the manuscripts detailing this were burned almost directly after they were written. Nobody was supposed to know about it. But about 20 years ago, someone found a diary that cued them in."

"Whose diary?"

"Vasco da Gama. Apparently, Rambaldi did something to him and his sons and daughters which prevented them from having male children. So da Gama is cursed with a line of daughters, one of which Rambaldi prophesied would be the one to bring on the end of the earth. It said something to the effect of her being the most precious gift and the most deadly poison, telling about the healing abilities and the deadliness of her blood. This knowledge was passed down generation to generation. At some point in my lineage, the women became afraid to have children. So, to keep the line alive, mothers stopped telling their daughters about 'the curse' and changed it into 'the blessing' by leaving out the part about the deadly poisonous blood. So then, women were proudly having daughters and waiting and watching to see who would be the one to give birth to the great healer. By the time the story got to my mother, the end of the earth part of the legend had been long forgotten. She was completely oblivious. And when Incant members came to us when we were living in Illinois, they told us they were going to protect me from the media by keeping me under extreme surveillance. She believed them. Really they were watching for the signs."

"Signs?"

"Five signs signal the readiness of me to become 'Pestis Universum', as they call it. One, I sweat. My whole life I've never shed a drop of sweat, no matter how hot I got. That is, until one day last month, when I started sweating in the back yard. Turns out that bodily fluid of mine is actually acid. The second sign-" She pushed up her sleeve and exposed the underside of her wrist. Sydney could see dark blue and green veins in the shape of the Rambaldi symbol. "The third: my hair turns black and oily. My scalp oil is probably toxic too. Then the fourth sign I'm not clear on, but the fifth is that I become catatonic, blind, and mute. As you can see, my hair is beginning to grow in black. So Incant saw three of the five signs, and began building the machine that is going to be used to propel my liquidized body into the air. That's when you heard about it."

"They're going to liquidize you?"

"Apparently. Sick, isn't it?"

"You could say that."

"Anyways this conversation is starting to make me nauseous. Is there pop in that fridge?" She got up, and went to the fridge. "Oh good," She said, reaching in and pulling out a can. She turned to Sydney, "want one?"

"Sure," Sydney said, then went on questioning. "So, what happens after the fifth sign if Incant doesn't make you into a weapon?"

"I last forty days in that state, then I either wake up completely restored, or I die. Fifty-fifty." She was surprisingly frank about everything as she sat back down at the table, sliding Sydney her can of pop. "If I live, the toxicity of my blood and sweat will be decreased to the point where they are only slightly acidic. Or, at least, that's what I got out of the diary."

"You've seen it?"

"Yeah, stole it, actually. Vasco had some messy handwriting, so I couldn't make out parts of it."

"You stole it. And they didn't know?"

"Oh, they knew. But I had a good ten minutes to read the thing before somebody took it from me."

"Mira, is there any chance that you-"

"Remember what it said? Yeah. Photographic memory. I could even draw it out for you if you wanted."

Sydney got excited. "What else did you steal?"

"Blueprints, handbooks..." She gave a sly grin, "oh, I got a hold of the works. I don't know if I can draw them all out for you, but I'll give it a shot if you want."

"Get your coat."

"I don't have one. Where are we going?"


	7. Signs

Holy tomales! The story _does _continue!

* * *

"Sydney." Vaughn walked up to her.

Sydney was standing behind the two - way mirror, watching Mira in the little room as she scribbled away frantically, filling page after page after page with encoded texts from the manuscripts she had stolen.

Vaughn stood beside her, now also looking in the mirror at Mira. He smiled slightly. "That looks familiar," he said. "You know if she was taller and wearing a bright red wig, she'd be you - exactly as you were when I first met you."

"Yeah." Sydney gave a little half smile, then gestured towards the girl. "She's got a lot more to say than I did, though."

Vaughn observed this also. Mira was sitting between two rather thick stacks of paper. On one side was blank pages, on the other pages she had filled front and back. Presently, she stopped. "I need a pencil." She said to the mirror, not knowing for sure who was behind it. Somebody came in almost immediately and handed her a couple of pencils. She thanked them and then began sketching feverishly.

They watched her in silence for quite some time, before Vaughn asked Sydney, as nonchalant as he could, "So they say she's psychic..."

"I know," Sydney said. "Not sure I believe it. But it's harmless, either way, don't you think?"

He didn't answer.

Mira suddenly sat back with a long sigh and put down her pencil. "She's done." Sydney said quickly and went into the room, not holding the door open for Vaughn.

"Finished?" Sydney asked.

Vaughn came in anyway.

"I can't remember any more." She breathed, visibly troubled by that truth.

Sydney couldn't help but let herself give a haughty little half smile. "I'm thinking we have enough to work with here." She gestured to the five-inch tall stack of 'done' papers.

Mira shook her head, a grave expression on her face which immediately told Sydney this was no light subject. "There's too much more... I can't..." She rubbed her forehead, her hands shaking. "I can't just give you that...I...don't understand why I can't...I never...My memory is..." She let out a long breath - a failed attempt to calm herself down. "I can't seem to visualize the sketches for the power cell." She finally said a complete sentence, but the manifestation of that thought into sound made her panic.

Vaughn spoke up. "Maybe if you take a break for a minute it will come back to you. You've been in here for a couple of hours."

"Have I?" She asked, now a vacant expression on her face. "I must have lost track of time." Running her hand through her hair seemed to snap her back to a normal state of mind for an instant. But then, she stopped. She pulled her hand out of her hair and stared at it with utmost dread, and rubbed her thumb across her fingertips. It was extremely oily. "Oh no." was all she said before she let out another sigh of despair and looked in vain around the room for her sister. Absent mindedly, she wiped her fingers on her new khakis. The material immediately became threadbare and showed her tan thigh through the worn spot.

"Oh no." Sydney repeated, seeing what happened to the pants.

Mira suddenly seemed to snap back to the present and she looked up at the two agents and said, "I need to shower."

"Certainly." Vaughn said kindly, although he did not think to mask the aghast and confused expression in his eyes, "there's a locker room just downstairs by the weight room. I'm sure -"

"I'll show you," Sydney broke in,offering Mira her handand leading her out.

She led Mira to the locker room, showed her where the showers were and the closetwhere the shampoos and soap and towelswere kept. Mira took an armload of shampoo and asked Sydney to bring all the towels she could carry. She stacked them on the floor just outside one shower, laying the twelve or so little bottles of shampoo on top of the towels in a neat little pyramid. As she arranged them, she turned to Sydney and asked, "Find me a fire extinguisher. Just in case. I'm not really sure what it is yet."

"Sure." Sydney said, going outside the locker room and taking the red tank off of it's hook right outside the door. She returned with it, putting it on the floor next to the stack of towels. "Here you go."

"Thanks."

Sydney left the room, going into the conference room where Dixon, Vaughn, Weiss, and Jack were sitting.

Dixon addressed her as soon as she came in. "What do you know?"

"About the oil? Nothing. She doesn't even know what it is yet."

"Why didn't you report in this morning?"

"There was an emergency - we were followed."

"You could have contacted us."

"I would have, but she warned me not to call for back - up. Considering the fact that we know nothing about this group and she seems to know almost every detail, I thought it best to go with what she said."

"You took the advice of an obviously dillusional teenager and broke protocol." Dixon accused her.

"Dillusional?" Sydney was offended for her sake.

"Yes, we know she claims to be psychic. Not only that, but she actually believes it."

"And?"

"Do you believe her?" Jack cut in cynically.

"No." She said. "Well, not at first, at least. But then today..."

"So you do believe her."

Sydney glared at him. "What's the harm in it, anyways?"

"What's the harm in it?" Dixon practically shouted. "You followed the lead of a mentally unsound little girl, leaving us with no way of contacting or tracking you, and you need to know what the harm in it is!"

"With all due respect, I have been with her for the last 14 hours, and she has showed no signs of any irrational or psychotic thinking. I think you're forgetting that she was a _rescue_, not an _arrest._"

"That doesn't excuse your behavior today. You still have not given a full report -"

"I know. I didn't want to leave her alone for too long, considering -"

"Then you shouldn't have left her at all." Dixon said pointedly.

Sydney looked down. "I'll have a report on your desk by tonight."

Dixon merely nodded. The intercom on the table suddenly came to life. Mira's voice came timidly into the room.

"Um, excuse me. It's Mira. You guys are going to want to come down here."

"We'll be right there," Sydney said, and rose.

The men all exchanged glances and followed her out. Marshall saw the group of men pass in the hallway, wonder and cynicism at its peak on everyone's face, and decided to follow them, curiosity taking precedent over his vast mind. Despite the readiness they all felt for meeting whatever it was they were going to meet, when theyfound Mirawaiting for themoutside the locker room, the concern on her face did not fail to unsettle them.

Mira gestured with her shoulder for them to follow her into the locker room. She brought them to the shower she had used, and drew back a now brown and brittle curtain. "Look," she said quietly.

Nobody knew what they were looking at. The shower that was in there before was definitely not the shower they found before them at that moment. It had turned a dark, sickening yellow color, and aquired all kinds of cracks and was warped horribly. The shower head and faucet handles were caked in rust and lime and who knows what else, and looked as though they would crumble if you touched them.

"My god,"Marshall said, causing everyone totake their eyes off the shower and look at him as he stared into thatsad sight of a showerwith a look of both amazement and deep concern. "It's...age."


	8. More

holy crap that was the epitome of long delays. but (_fanfare plays_) the story continues. it's been tough getting inspiration now that the show is on hiatus until the new season starts up. and wtf were they thinking leaving us hanging like that? i swear i'm going die.i'm going to just keel over and fucking DIE of suspence. ah! anyways, I hope you haven't given up on me. and expect slow updates, as usual, because i'm in school now and it's going to be sucking the life out of me. i hope you like this chapter. i had trouble with it.

i own nothing but my oc.

* * *

A long silence followed. Nobody could process this information fast enough, and soon they became aware of the hum of the florescent light above them, the creak of the shifting building, somebody sparring just outside the room, but it all seemed far away, like on a television somewhere. None of this could possibly be real, could it? 

Mira's expression changed suddenly, and she turned from the shower to Marshall, who stood with his brow furrowed in thought.

"Do you really think you can do that?" She broke the silence with such an eager lilt in her voice, everyone had to look at her. She looked at Marshall with question and hope.

It didn't occur to Marshall at first that he hadn't actually said anything. "I don't know. I'd have to get a sample, but to put it in a glass tube, it would, well...break, and then ..." He stopped. Had he been thinking out loud?

Everyone was staring at the two of them like they had both suddenly turned into giant king-kong balloons. Except Sydney, who looked on with mild interest. Marshall looked around at their faces, and his fears were confirmed. He _had_ been keeping his thoughts to himself. He turned his attention back on Mira, who smiled encouragingly at him, despite the forbearance with which his eyes met hers.

"Will you try?" Mira asked.

"Yeah...I..." He frowned slightly. "Sorry." He turned and left the room quickly.

Jack suddenly noticed something. He shifted his posture and peered at the back of Mira's shoulders. "What's this?" He asked, reaching out to touch her.

With a low gasp, Mira seized his hand. "Don't." She said, staring him down to show she meant business. "Don't touch me. Is it blood?" Her hand was so much smaller than his that she only managed to close her hand around three of his fingers. Endearing as this may have looked, Jack wasn't taken up in it at all. Her touch was biting.

He was put off by her actions. "Yes. It's blood." He said with too much courtesy, and took his hand from her. Giving Sydney a look, he let her know he had been insulted.

"Trust her, Dad." Sydney said as she ushered Mira out. "Your shirt is starting to smoke." She told her on the way.

"God damnit."

Sydney led her into the little doctor's office that was on that floor. Weiss and Dixon followed. Dixon scrubbed up and put on rubber gloves. Mira looked at him.

"If you think those are going to protect you, you've got another thing coming."

"What do you expect me to do?" He asked, exasperated.

"Get me as many mirrors as you can." She quickly tied her hair up in a tight bun, and then helped the others set up a system of mirrors for her to examine her wound.

Once everything was in place, Mira sat down at the chair, rolled up her sleeves, and reached for the spot in her neck which was oozing blood. She explored it for only a few seconds before she said, "Oh God. There's something in there."

"What?"

"I should have known. God, I'm so stupid! Get me more light, please." Weiss directed a powerful overhead operating light to the wound. Mira took a long, slow breath.

"What are you going to do?" Sydney asked, suddenly feeling protective towards the girl.

"I'm going to dig it out."

Dixon nodded and moved towards the cabinet, saying, "let me get you some morphine."

She stopped him. "No. God knows there needn't be any more chemicals in this body." They all started to protest, but she cut them off. "Besides, how would you inject it? The needle would get destroyed the moment it penetrated a vein."

Dixon abandoned the cabinet and rejoined the other two agents in a curved line behind Mira, watching her as she dug her fingernails into the wound and underneath the skin right next to it. She ground her teeth together as she opened the wound further. A thicker blurb of blood began to run down her neck. Sydney held towels to her shoulders to catch the blood, throwing one after the other into the nearby sink as they burned and melted. Still, Mira couldn't get a hold of it, so she took her fingers out and repositioned them, then dove back in and dug and tore until finally, she pulled out a tiny black square and put it in a nearby tray. The tray immediately began to rust and melt, but Mira leaned over and spit on it and put out the fire. While the agents bent over to look at the tiny thing in the tray, Mira, white as a sheet, shakily got out of the chair and ushered herself to the bathroom around the corner.

The three agents studied the square, trying to figure out what it was exactly. When Mira didn't return after a few minutes, Sydney went to the bathroom door and knocked softly.

"Mira?" She asked the door, "are you ok?"

There was a pause. Then a faint reply came through the door by Sydney's knees. "Don't come in here." Mira's voice was all at once thick and weak and quivering.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing." She said, too quickly. "I'm fine. Marshall's going to want the thing..."

"He's on his way down here," Sydney supplied, not letting Mira get off the subject. "Mira, are you sure you're ok? That wound is pretty big. I think you should come out and get stitched up."

Mira swallowed. "How are you going to do that?" She said, her voice just barely loud enough for Sydney to hear.

"You should take some penicillin to help make sure you don't get an infection. I think there's some in there in the cabinet."

Sydney heard the cabinet snap open. "I found it. I found it." Mira said, still just barely whispering, and there was a rattle of a pill bottle and the faucet turned on. And the water poured into the sink. And it poured on, and on, and on.

"Mira?" Sydney said, a little loudly, putting her ear to the door again. The faucet turned off. "Is there something I can get for you?"

Sydney jumped back as the door pulsated against weight from the other side. At first she tried to figure out what Mira had thrown, and why, and then she heard the weight slide down the door and come to a rest near her ankles.

"M - My sister." Mira begged Sydney's feet through the door.

"Are you ok?" Sydney asked. "Mira?"

But Mira would not answer.


	9. Each of the Two

**I'M BACK!!**

* * *

Sydney turned around and grabbed Dixon by the arm as he walked past, leaving. "Dixon, something's wrong. We need to get her sister here."

"Syd, it isn't safe for her family yet."

"I know. But we need her. I glanced at Mira's report earlier. In it she mentioned something about her sister being the only one who can save her."

"She's in protective custody, what in the world could her sister save her from that we can't?"

"From herself."

Dixon turned to go and Jack showed up in the door moments later. "What's going on here?"

"I think Mira's passed out in there. I asked Dixon to find her sister for us." Sydney answered. "Weiss, would you help me with the door?"

"Sure," Eric answered.

Jack spoke up, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Dad, she needs medical attention." Sydney replied, combative.

"That's what I came down here to tell you. Sydney, you were correct to send for Mira's sister. We've managed to put together information based on her report. You told us she was unclear on the fourth sign -- that's because it was in code. Marshall just cracked it a moment ago. If we're correct, Mira has reached this stage. She's become superheated from a chemical reaction in her bloodstream."

"What are you saying - she's burned to death in there?"

"Not exactly. Something in her DNA is stabilizing her, but she is unconscious."

"We have to get her out of there, we've got to --"

"Sydney, let me finish. If this is the case, not only has she become extremely hot, she is also highly radioactive. Fortunately she managed to lock herself in a room that was originally built to withstand World War 3. We're safe out here now but Sydney, opening that door will expose us all to extremely dangerous levels of radiation."

Sydney turned back and knocked on the door, and burned her hand in the process. "Mira?" she called. "Sweetie don't panic, ok? We're going to find your sister. You'll be alright. Trust me."

Sydney turned to leave but stopped short as Mira tapped the door in reply. It glowed red where her finger hit it.

"Mira?" she called.

"Not my little sister." Mira was forcing her voice and choking. "Tempestade. Por favor... pressa."

Jack butted in. "Mira, this is Mr. Bristow. We're working as fast as we can, but we need you to get to the center of the room or you'll melt the door down. Do you understand?"

"Sim...ja." Her voice faded as the color in the door returned to normal.

Marshall walked in just as Jack turned to Weiss and said to him, "We'll need to figure out a way to keep these walls cool until we can procure her sister. Get as many fire extinguishers as you can." Weiss ran off in obedience.

"What's going on?" Marshall asked as Weiss blew by him.

"She's superheating the room." Sydney told him. "We need to find a way to keep the walls cool until her sister gets here."

"A fire extinguisher isn't going to help for very long," Marshall said. "I have a super-cooling device that should work better,"

"Good. I'll go find Dixon and appraise him of the situation." Jack stated and turned to go.

"But..."Marshall continued, stopping Jack, "It's only going to buy us more time, it's not going to work forever. Containing the heat is also magnifying it -- like a kiln. Eventually it's just going to burn through everything."

"How much time can you give us?"

"At most, eight hours, but realistically we're looking at six."

Jack looked at Sydney briefly. "Do it." He said to Marshall, then turned and marched down the hall.

"Dad," Sydney called after him, catching up. "What did she mean, not her little sister? Our information only lists one sibling -- Josephina -- who's ten years old."

"And Josephina is a half sister only, I know. But I recognized the other name she mentioned: Tempestade."

"Recognized from what?"

Jack led Sydney into his office and started pulling up files on his computer. He turned the monitor around so she could see. It was a criminal record. "Catarina E. Ferreira," he said, "known as La Tempestade, is wanted for the assassination of twelve international diplomats."


End file.
